Regret
by GreyJedi
Summary: Shinon thought nothing could hurt him anymore. He was wrong.


So I've had this uploaded for nearly the sixty day limit and figured that since I was going to upload it I might as well actually post the darn thing. Coming up with a title for this has been giving me trouble - like major trouble. Still not happy with it. But I'll deal.

This is Shinon's fault. It's what happens when a character feeds me so many half-baked ideas for stories that it interferes with my life, namely the sleep part of my life. Also, I personally think 'Tragedy' is a bit too strong a word for this fic's genre, bit it was really my best option.

Fire Emblem belongs to Nintendo and Intelligent Systems.

* * *

It had happened in an instant. He'd warned the boy against a longbow until he'd become more proficient with the shorter ranged ones first.

Rolf hadn't listened.

In his defence, he really hadn't been half bad, despite wielding a weapon nearly as tall as he was. But it was hardly a practical choice for the young Archer. Longbows were made of stiffer wood and while they gave longer distance, they were tricky to use without ample practice.

He'd tried to explain this to him. And Rolf had said that it kept him further away and therefore safer. The logic of it had seemed so sound, but he'd still told the boy "Fine, your funeral." He hadn't meant it literally.

The moment was ingrained in his memory.

Rolf standing there proudly, bow drawn. His shot had missed the Daein swordsman by mere inches. And then it had happened, before anyone could rush to his aid.

The enemy mercenary charged forward, too close for Rolf to retaliate, his sword raised and poised to kill. He slashed once at the boy's abdomen and then jabbed.

Shinon saw Rolf jerk from the impact of the thrust, swaying dangerously, the bow dropping to the ground from nerveless hands. He staggered back one step, the bloody end of the sword protruding from his back.

Rolf tried to speak, a word sounding as though it could have been 'Boyd' was as far as he got before he coughed. Blood sprayed from his lips and he was hauled forward as the mercenary forcibly withdrew his weapon. Then, he toppled, falling to the ground with a very final thud.

For a moment Shinon could only stare in horror. He'd seen death before, hundreds of times, maybe thousands, but Rolf? Ashera, not _Rolf_.

He ran to him, pausing only to fire a shot at the Daein who had attacked Rolf. Shinon didn't even wait to see him fall, the shaft and feathers of an arrow jutting from his throat. The sniper dropped to his knees next to the green haired boy. He gripped Rolf's shoulders and flipped him onto his back.

Rolf lay perfectly still where he'd fallen. Blood dribbled down the corners of his mouth; his green eyes were open in a wide unblinking stare, dirt marred his cheeks. Blood soaked through his shirt around the stab wound and caused his clothing to stick to the gash in his stomach.

Shinon found himself unable to tear his gaze from the gaping hole in Rolf's chest, a chest which no longer shuddered and moved with the breath so vital to life. A gentle breeze ruffled Rolf's hair and sent small ripples through his clothing. And against every single irrational, shameful desire in Shinon's heart, the boy did not stir.

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. That bow was meant to have protected him, not caused his death.

Shinon's grip tightened on his shoulders, refusing to accept the truth that sat so plainly in front of him. He shook the boy as though it were able to rouse him from the slumber of death.

"Rolf!"

He'd trained the boy himself, he'd been _good_. Not the best, but good. Desperate, Shinon shook him again. "Dammit, Rolf!" But it did nothing. Rolf's head lolled to the side, glassy eyes unfocussed and, like the rest of him, lifeless.

Shinon was dimly aware of the horse's hooves drawing nearer, oblivious to the sight of a well aimed javelin tearing through a would-be attacker.

Oscar reined his horse in so sharply it reared. Barely allowing all four hooves to land back on the ground, he jumped from the saddle and knelt next to the sniper. He pulled his helmet off and tossed it to the side, shaking his head in disbelief and dislodging the hair that sweat had stuck to his forehead. And then he was pulling his little brother's body from Shinon's grip; his hands trembled as he closed the boy's eyes.

"Rolf... Rolf...No..." the paladin whispered cradling Rolf close. Tears spilled from his eyes, leaving trails in the grime on his cheeks.

Shinon remembered little of the battle beyond that. Some part of his brain reasoned that Boyd must have shown up at some point, but the clearest thing to him was Gatrie giving him a hand up and pulling him into a hug. He'd glared at the knight and shoved away, snatching his bow from ground and stalked off with it slung over his shoulder.

It was only back at base where the full realization began to sink in. Maybe it was the rather pitiful cooking that night, or the violent argument that had erupted between Boyd and Oscar which had required both Kieran and Ike to intervene, or _perhaps_ it was the actual absence of the green haired boy at the camp.

After dinner, Shinon had decided he needed alcohol and lots of it.

* * *

"You know _what_?" he slurred to Gatrie, "You can work your _whole damn life_ to get as good as me. Hell, maybe you can even be better, but you know _what_?" he paused to allow his words to sink in.

The knight shook his head slowly, not daring to interrupt.

"It doesn't matter. Not one goddessdamn bit. Because," he paused again and took a long drink, "Because at the end of the day, some dumb fuck with a sword can just run up and take away the most important thing." He took another large swig of his drink. "Tha's the way it always is wit' me," he continued. "First Greil, now Rolf..." He clapped a hand to Gatrie's shoulder and poked him hard in the chest with his other hand. "_You_ had fuckin' well better stay away from any stupid bastard with a sword. You got me?"

"I think you've had enough for one night," Gatrie said, gently pulling Shinon's hands away.

"Like hell. 'M not _near_ done."

Gatrie shook his head. "Shinon, you've had enough." He gripped the sniper's arm in his large hand and stood, pulling a reluctant Shinon up with him.

Shinon cursed the knight once they were back out in the fresh air, cursed again the man who had killed Rolf, cursed Ike for no particular reason, and just plain cursed.

Then, as he stood hunched over and throwing up into a bush, Gatrie's hand on his back, he cursed himself for that one moment of weakness. That one insignificant instant where he'd allowed himself to care...

"_Hey kid, c'mere. You're going to learn how to use a bow."

* * *

_

...Yeah. Don't really have much to say about this one. I love Rolf, I really do. I shout at him a lot when I leave him in an enemy attack range and he dies, but I really like the little fella.

Comment if you so desire.


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